


sounds like a lot of work

by verity



Series: tween wolf [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Cigarettes, Friendship, Gen, High School, Male-Female Friendship, Siblings, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek couldn't talk to his friends, after the fire. They'd all met Kate; she was a lifeguard at the pool, that summer. They might put it together, somehow, they might figure it out.</p><p>If asked under torture, Daphne Martin would probably deny that they were friends, so that was all right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sounds like a lot of work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ursa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursa/gifts), [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts).



> This installment is not intended for younger readers.
> 
>  **content notes:** there's a frivolous reference to self-harm at the end, also, underage smoking.
> 
> Also, this is a bit angsty. Note that this series is in progress: it'll get better.

"Pay up," Daphne says, curling her fingers toward Derek.

Derek pulls the box of unfiltered Chesterfields out of his backpack and passes them below the cover of the dash. They're stuck in the usual after-school traffic jam, waiting for some jackass in the battered Toyota four cars down to stop blocking their row in. When Derek peers closer, he can make out Travis Horne in the passenger seat; they used to play soccer together.

"Thanks," Daphne says. Her fingers drift over the radio controls, fiddle with the volume knob. Sometimes she rolls down the windows and blasts whatever CD she's obsessed with this week, and Derek has to spend the whole afternoon trying not to wince, but today her fingers drift back to the steering wheel, tap on the faded cover idly. "God, Parker went on and on today with her bullshit about allegorical readings of _The Scarlet Letter_ , I don't think anyone's even bothered reading it. I'm pretty sure Peang was quoting Spark Notes."

"I've read _The Scarlet Letter_ ," Derek says.

Daphne rolls her eyes, reaches up to pull her messy hair into a ponytail. "Of course you have, asshole."

Derek shrugs. "It wasn't that great."

The Toyota finally makes it into the main stream of traffic and the Ford pickup in front of them inches forward; Daphne takes her foot off the brake.

—

Derek couldn't talk to his friends, after the fire. They'd all met Kate; she was a lifeguard at the pool, that summer. They might put it together, somehow, they might figure it out.

If asked under torture, Daphne Martin would probably deny that they were friends, so that was all right.

"Are we good?" Derek asks when they finally break free of school traffic. "Or do you have to—"

Daphne sighs, fumbles with the plastic wrap on the pack with one hand while she steers with the other. "Yeah, I have brat duty. She's just going to gymnastics, Mom'll pick her up."

Deerbrook Middle gets out an hour and five minutes after Beacon Hills High, which is almost exactly how long it takes them to get out of class, clear the parking lot, and drive across town. Daphne's parents bought her the Volvo hatchback with the condition that she ferry her younger sister to and from gymnastics, violin lessons, and the mall, which has left her sanguine about spending the rest of her afternoons driving around aimlessly with Derek, chainsmoking the cigarettes he trades her for gas and mileage. Laura buys them for him; it's not like smoking can hurt him, after all.

The light in from of them goes yellow and Daphne brings them to an a smooth stop. She taps a cigarette out of the pack into her hand, holds it out to Derek. "Light me up?"

"Magic word?" Derek says.

"No," Daphne says.

—

Lydia is Daphne through the looking glass; she's like a porcelain doll, her hair curling past her shoulders, immaculately styled and held back by a lavender headband. Her nose wrinkles when she climbs in the car, pushing the pile of books, musty clothes, and discarded wrappers to the other side of the back seat. "I'm going to tell Mom you're smoking in here," she says. "You're going to get in trouble."

"Yeah, you do that," Daphne says. "Who's going to drive you to the mall?"

"I hate you," Lydia says, a scowl disturbing her perfect little face.

Daphne flicks on her turn signal, waits for the minivan ahead of her to pull up so she can get out of the pickup lane. "I hate you, too, angel."

Derek and Lydia have yet to exchange a single word, even though Daphne's been giving Derek rides since February. Apparently she's some kind of kid savant, but all she does in school is torment her peers and set trends. Daphne's smart, too; she's in all AP classes, even though she cuts a lot and half the time Derek does, he finds her out smoking behind the gym.

In the back seat, Lydia sighs extravagantly. "I'm going over to Mandy's tomorrow after class. Can you pick me up after? Mom said she's not getting home until—"

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Daphne says. "Derek, DJ. I'm feeling the need to drown out the background noise for some reason."

—

Laura's convinced that Derek and Daphne are dating. They smell like each other now, smoke and cheeseburgers and stale high school air. Derek likes Daphne for the same reason he likes the cigarettes Laura buys in cartons: not for the nicotine rush they give humans, but for the smell, the way it masks everything even to his hypersensitive nose, keeps him at a careful remove. Daphne likes loud music, Chesterfields, Sylvia Plath, whatever will throw up a screen between her and the rest of the world.

"I'd like to carve the entire text of 'Lady Lazarus' on my arm," she said to Derek the first time they hung out, behind the gym during third period, when Derek spotted her a cig.

"Sounds like a lot of work," Derek said.

"Point," she said, tapping her ashes on the ground. "I should start with something shorter."

Derek borrowed her lighter the next time. The flame didn't bother him anymore.

—

"Where do you want to go?" Daphne says, after Lydia's tumbled out of the car and off to leotards and mats.

"Wherever's fine," Derek says. "I don't care."

Daphne puts the Volvo in gear.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
